Free Heart of the Gods by Valerie Douglas Page B

leave a body here in this place, in the open? He frowned and shook his head, looked out across the site.
    What had happened here that had been so terrible they’d abandoned their dead?
    He began carefully excavating the skeleton, finding the cause of death easily in the well-preserved specimen―a surprise, too, given that animals and carrion birds usually chewed or carried off some parts―the ribs were cracked in what appeared to have been a sword wound.
    Who were you? he wondered. Why were you left here?
    The next question was, were there more?
    As with everything, there was protocol for something like this.
    Ky stood, raised his voice to carry.
    “I’ve found a skeleton, intact. We have bodies here, people,” he said, his voice ringing clear. “Bodies.”
    Instantly everyone stopped what they were doing, raised hands, brushes, trowels, and stepped back cautiously.
    For an occupation so consumed with the dead past, there was reverence for those of the dead they found.
    Excavations would now be undertaken even more slowly, with the awareness that the shards they might be uncovering might be bone, had once been someone’s son or daughter, could very likely be someone’s many times removed grandparent.
    The sacred dead.
     
     
    For a time there was silence as the leader of the group paced, his head down, considering what the others had told him. They’d intercepted reports and communications to indicate that the Americans still searched for the Tomb. Progress was slow but there was the matter of the midden that had not been shared with the other archaeologists.
    What had been learned there they did not yet know and that was a problem.
    In a way it worked in their favor as what was not known to the others revealed nothing to them.
    There were other watchers though, as they’d discovered to their dismay and concern.
    Even the ancient fort, though, was too close to the Tombs. The possibility was good they might discover something there.
    “It’s too great a chance to take,” he said. “Find a way to frighten them away. It shouldn’t be too difficult with the current unrest. They are not to be killed. At all costs.”
    Deaths brought attention and the last thing they needed was more attention. If it came out what it was the American searched for? With their love for mysteries and conspiracy theories and such…? They would have even more looking. It was bad enough as it was.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Patiently Ryan instructed Raissa in the fine art, the very fine art, of the actual ‘dig’, removing the material around a structure or artifact without damaging it in situ, recording it and the level at which it was found, along with any additional materials. He was a surprisingly patient teacher, for which she was grateful.
    They were working in one of those rooms along the side walls, using brushes of all size. In some cases they even used dental picks. To Raissa it was all fascinating, this unveiling of these dead, and the care, even reverence, that they took.
    If he’d been surprised she’d asked, he hadn’t said so. Between them, they’d worked out a deal, he would teach her this and she would teach him hieroglyphics.
    “Do you mind?” she’d asked.
    “Hell, no,” he’d said, with a shrug. “I taught lots of dumbass volunteers back in the States. Most of ‘em are dumber than a box of rocks. You’re smarter than most of them. Where do you want to work?”
    “I don’t want to disturb your work…,” Raissa offered. “How about there?”
    A few of the ‘rooms’ hadn’t excavated and Professor Farrar was still carefully excavating the skeleton he’d found in his section. Now that everyone knew what they might find the excavation was proceeding even more slowly and carefully and a number of other remains had now been found.
    Finally, at long last, these lost souls would be returned to the land of Egypt they’d known.
    So that empty ‘room’ wouldn’t likely be worked for some time.
    “Sure,”